Early
by Miss Whip
Summary: A short little oneshot follow up to Kidnapped. Amita and Charlie with their son about nine months after the end of Kidnapped. Complete, please review!


Title: Early

Rating: All ages

This is a one-shot piece that will probably be the last thing I write with this particular plotline. I don't have a planned sequel to "Kidnapped," this just came out at me.

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Charlie lowered himself gently onto the carpeted floor. Tucking his wild hair back behind his ears, he folded his legs up under himself and stared forward.

His face was intense, though it lacked his usual mathematics based tight expressions. One could tell only by looking at his slightly softened eyes and the tiny gap where his mouth was open. The space between his upper and lower lip could easily indicate the presence of a more delicate intensity and question, one with no hard sciences.

His finger tips played with the edge of his pajama pant leg. Like anything else that had captured his interest, he ignored the need for basics, such as getting dressed in his day clothes, and concentrated right in on the new item.

Involuntarily, he shifted to better support his body weight on the floor, but little other movement came from him. No part of his genuine curiosity wanted to bring attention to himself and off the task at hand.

In the kitchen, Amita patted down the dry parts of her shredded wheat, pressing down on the spoon until milk flowed into the silver disk. She had been up for an hour. Luckily for her, her son had remained asleep through most of the night and she'd impressed even herself by her ability to be showered and dressed by the time his cries issued from the nursery.

She'd heard Charlie come downstairs, obviously taking advantage of his sleeping time being that it wasn't his night to attend to their son. A part of her was still waiting for him to come into the kitchen and talk to her, but she figured he must be distracted. After having another bite of breakfast, she set the spoon down and went to check on Atal in his playpen in the living room.

The first sight that greeted her eyes was Charlie seated on the floor with his back to her, so focused on something that he didn't even notice her come in.

"Charlie?" She asked.

Without thinking, he made a sounded to shush her. She raised her eyebrows at this. She was tired and ready for work and he wasn't even showered yet.

Realizing what he'd done, he turned his head and became apologetic, "Sorry, just, come here."

She walked over and seated herself beside him. A quick glance at the playpen showed no sign of their son and she immediately became worried, "Where's – "

Charlie laid his hand on her arm and pointed in front of him. At once, Amita realized just what had captured his attention.

Little Atal Eppes, only some days between his ninth and tenth month of life was sitting next to the couch. His attention wasn't on his parents, only on the oversized sitting structure that he seemed to desperately want to conquer.

"Watch this." Charlie whispered his wife's ear, his lips so close that it made her shiver even in the light of such an innocent sentence.

He moved to the edge of the couch and with his chubby little baby fingers, he grasped onto the side. Little by little, he held onto higher and higher pieces of fabric until his legs were fully extended.

Amita drew in a breath quietly, well aware of the significance of her son's actions. She reached over and took Charlie's right hand in her left. The soft touch took her attention from the child for only a moment to gaze at his wife. Despite the romance of the moment, neither could stand to divert their eyes for long.

Atal leaned his chest against the cushion, and playfully smacked them with his now free hands. He was extremely proud of his accomplishment.

Charlie grinned, "He's going to try again."

Though his words had been said low and whispered, these ones, however, Atal had heard. Their baby turned and contemplated his parents with the same intensity as his father had observed him. Amita looked back and forth, from one to the other and gave a light laugh.

She stretched out her right hand, "C'mon Atal. You can do it."

Atal's eyes were unsure now, nearly begging his mother to run forward and pick him up. Charlie extended his left hand towards his son, "Yeah, you can do it."

The parents could almost see the realization in their son's eyes that he would have to go to them if he wanted the desired contact.

Slowly and with a few wobbly movements, Atal walked to the very edge of the couch. He looked down, concentrating on his legs, willing them to do as the adults did and function correctly. His little hand left the couch and he stood there, balancing, rocking slightly. With much effort, he lifted one leg and set it down. He then lifted the other. His little stocking legs began a slow march across the floor.

There was not far to go, maybe four or five steps at the most.

Charlie and Amita's eyes never left their baby and they sat poised, ready to catch him should he fall.

Amita pulled her hand from Charlie's, though regrettably, and extended both her arms, "Just a little further."

Atal paused at his mother's hands; he was a bit tired from the exertion. When he tried to start again, he lost his footing. It didn't matter though, as he was quickly scooped up in Amita's waiting arms.

She practically covered him with kisses, "You did so well!" Atal relished in the hugs.

Turning to her husband, Amita held Atal facing him, "Our baby took his first steps!"

Charlie grinned widely and kissed his son's head, letting the boy wrapped his hand around his father's fingers.

Amita watched him, suddenly realizing what Charlie was wondering about their child. Meanwhile Charlie stared at the boy. The big brown eyes, curly black hair, and the face that seemed to always bear the mark of an inquisitor looked all too similar.

"What's wrong?"

The question seemed to startle him a bit, "Nothing, it's just that, he's walking three months early."

"So? I walked early too."

"I started walking this early."

She kissed the baby's cheek and gave him a sympathetic smile, "You think he might be like you?"

"Yeah."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I'm worried he might miss out on his childhood, you know?"

She put a hand to his cheek and cradled it, "All he did was walk early Charlie. If he starts multiplying three digit numbers in his head at three, then we'll worry."

Both smiled at one another, the knowing and telling turn of the lips that only couples know. Charlie reached forward and took his son in his arms. He marveled at the roly-poly figure and the features so miniature to his own. Leaning forward, he kissed the child's head again, nudging the soft hair with his nose.

After a minute, both parents got up from the floor and took Atal with them into the kitchen. Charlie buckled the child into his high chair.

"I'm gonna feed him, you should get showered." Stated Amita, walking to the cupboard where they kept Atal's foods.

"Yeah, I'm running a little late." He took a last look at his wife and child before making a mad dash up the stairs.

Charlie nearly ran into his father on the way up the stairs. Alan walked heavily into the kitchen and began to cook breakfast for himself, "Morning."

"Morning," Amita responded. She paused for a moment, "We really appreciate all your help with Atal."

"I know sweetheart. Besides, what grandfather wouldn't want to spend the day with his grandson?" Alan turned and smiled at Atal. Atal laughed and clapped his hands at the sight of it. They were the best of friends.

Less than half an hour later, Charlie reappeared and grabbed the few slices of toast his father had made for him.

"You're lucky you got up early this morning." Commented Alan, his attention mostly being paid to the newspaper.

"I would have been ready sooner, but I was watching Atal."

"Watching Atal?"

"Yeah," Amita fed her son another spoonful, "He took his first steps this morning."

The paper folded up suddenly, "He did?"

"Yeah." Charlie was grinning again.

"Charlie walked at about this age."

"Yeah, he told me."

Charlie checked his watch, "Amita, we should go."

She looked at her timepiece as well, "You're right."

Alan put down his paper and took the feeding spoon from Amita, "It's alright guys, Atal and I will be just fine."

Hand in hand, the couple said their goodbyes to Alan, kissed Atal, and ran to their car.

At CalSci, they were not two steps into their office before a forever pondering Larry greeted them.

"How are you two?"

"Atal took his first steps today." Boasted the proud father in a manner rather uncharacteristic for him.

"Really?" Larry clasped his hands, "So early?"

"Yeah. Well, Alan says that Charlie walked at that age too."

Larry contemplating, "And you're thinking that Atal could follow Charlie's path of development based on this one possibly genetic precedent?"

"We don't know."

"Well, I've always believed that children are a mix of nature and nurture. Outside influences on a wide array of chromosome and gene dictated behavior makes for the individuality in people. You see it with twins a lot."

"So you don't think Atal will be like me?"

"Not unless you act in every way like your father and Amita like your mother, and even then, you can't be sure because Atal's genetic code is unique."

"I know, I know." Charlie surveyed the pile of papers on his desk.

"Besides," Larry grinning, touching his two index fingers together, folding the others and placing them to his chin, "Atal is missing a key element."

"What's more key than Charlie's exact genetic code?" Joked Amita, rather amused at the conversation of the two men.

"A brother, a sibling if you will, to help shape his personality. Key parts of Charlie's personality are a direct result of his interactions with Don."

Amita kept her eyes down, typing away at her computer, deleting the unnecessary school emails over luncheons and useless faculty meetings. She knew though, that Charlie had stolen a quick look at her.

Larry had seen the look and was backing out of the office, "I have to teach a class. Apparently when I'm late, my students think I don't care."

The door to the office clicked shut and Charlie sat on the edge of the desk, trying not to make eye contact with Amita, "Did you hear what he said?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know what to think though."

"Charlie," Amita sighed, "Why are you even worrying about this? Atal is who he is. Maybe he's a prodigy like you, maybe he's not. Maybe he'll develop his mind like me."

Charlie closed his eyes, "I wasn't trying to imply that you didn't have anything to do with it." He pulled her into a long kiss, "You're Atal's wonderful mother after all."

She kissed back, "You're okay now?"

"Yes."

Amita tried to walk away but Charlie playfully pulled her back against him, "So, what do you think about another child?"

"Atal just took his first steps Charlie, I don't think we're ready."

"You do want more kids though, don't you?"

She laughed and cuddled close to him, "You get Atal to talk early, and I'll start thinking about it."

"Deal."


End file.
